


for your protection

by bibliosexual



Series: Tumblr fic [22]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Misunderstandings, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-03 00:22:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12737280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bibliosexual/pseuds/bibliosexual
Summary: When Stiles opens the package, which claims to be from his dad, he thinks it’s a prank. Maybe from Derek, but probably from Scott because Scott’s humor tends to run a little more juvenile than Derek’s, and this is definitely a stupid joke.





	for your protection

**Author's Note:**

> Another [tumblr fic](http://bibliosexxual.tumblr.com/post/167223350011/dude-this-totally-makes-me-think-of-a-sterek), whoo! The story here is that earlier this month, I posted [this photo](http://bibliosexxual.tumblr.com/post/166815451606/so-my-mom-gave-me-this-keychain-weapon-for) of a certain gift from my well-meaning mother, and anon prompted me to Sterek it. I couldn't resist.

When Stiles opens the package, which claims to be from his dad, he thinks it’s a prank. Maybe from Derek, but probably from Scott because Scott’s humor tends to run a little more juvenile than Derek’s, and this is definitely a stupid joke.

Also, Derek knows that mentioning Stiles’ dad in ANY kind of sexual context would be a surefire guarantee of not getting laid anytime soon, so he’s never done it, not once in the three months they’ve been semi-secretly dating.

Scott, on the other hand, has no such worries, given that he and Stiles are never (thank god) going to be anything more than platonic best bros.

He could ask Scott directly if this was him. Same with Derek, who’s currently very asleep and very naked in Stiles’ bed. (God, that’s still a weird thought. Weird and amazing.) But if either of them was behind it, they’d deny it. Otherwise that would spoil the prank, duh. So Stiles calls his dad at work.

One of the deputies answers. Parrish, the new guy. Normally Stiles would flirt a little with him, automatically and aimlessly, but 1) he’s kind of got a boyfriend now, and 2) he’s just really, really not in the mood. He’s more in a “trying not to panic because this HAS to be a prank” mood, actually, as Parrish puts him on hold for his dad, who is apparently in a meeting.

While the elevator music plays, Stiles risks another glance down at the box, which he’s left open on the kitchen table, a safe few feet away while Stiles paces with his cell phone.

It’s definitely… Stiles cringes to even think it in this context, but it has to be said… kinky.

It’s, well. It’s a dildo, Stiles supposes, but that word alone seems waaay too innocent compared to—to this. In Stiles’ experience, most dildos don’t look nearly this dangerous. It’s the kind of thing that makes Stiles wonder if his dad has somehow seen his internet search history. Oh god. It was all for research, Stiles swears. Just satisfying a purely intellectual curiosity.

Although, all the butt stuff Stiles has looked at (and laughed over, and maybe fantasized about once or twice, so sue him) has looked a lot more… fleshy. This, by contrast, is a slender six inches of gleaming black metal, shaped with three distinct ridges in the middle and tapering to end in a spike. The spike is rounded slightly on the very tip so that it couldn’t actually do any pricking, but still. This dildo means business.  

Does it even still qualify as a dildo if it doesn’t even resemble an actual penis? Because this does not. What it more closely resembles are those spikes on the tops of wrought iron fences. And Stiles can honestly say he has never in his life fantasized about sticking one of those up his butt, thank you very much.

Or anyone else’s butt, just to cover all his bases here.

Bizarrely, it’s fitted at the base with a keychain ring. Is that supposed to be a grip for someone’s finger to keep it from getting stuck…  _up there_ , since the dildo doesn’t have a flared base? Stiles doesn’t even know.

There’s a note in the package, under the dildo. Stiles has already read it a good five or six times, looking for clues, but he has to say whoever wrote it did a good job. It looks like his dad’s handwriting, all right, and Stiles recognizes the paper from the pad on his dad’s desk at the station.  _That’s_ true dedication to a prank, right there.

All it says is, “Stiles— I saw this and thought of you. You can keep it on your keychain in case you need it. Be safe. Love, Dad.”

Be safe? Be  _safe?_  Just what is that supposed to mean? Stiles has been thinking about this for a good twenty minutes now, ever since he unsuspectingly opened the package, and he still doesn’t know. What he does know is that this thing looks like it belongs at a fucking S&M club. If it genuinely is from his dad, then Stiles  _really_ doesn’t want to know why his dad has those kinds of mental associations. He just knows he wants them to go away.

Also, if he could scrub the last half hour from his memory and somehow destroy this torture device, that would be nice too.

And… on his keychain? Really?  _Really?_

The only explanation Stiles can think of is that Stiles’ dad has found out somehow about Derek. And the conclusions his dad has apparently drawn about what kind of person Derek is are disturbing, to say the least. It’s a little understandable (ish), given Derek’s general aura around strangers and his penchant for leather and the whole thing where he was a murder suspect for a while there, but… still.

Fuck. Stiles will be home from college for Thanksgiving in a couple weeks. How is he supposed to sit across the table from his dad, eating pecan pie, possibly with Derek in tow now that the secret is out, and  _know_ that this is what his dad thinks of him and his first adult relationship?

… not that this is from his dad. It’s a prank. Right.

“Stiles?” his dad says in his ear. “What’s up?”

Stiles jumps a little, hand tightening on his phone. This dildo is making him jumpy. It’s just so fucking  _menacing_. “Oh, uh, hey. Just thought I’d call, you know, and ask if, um…” He probably should’ve planned ahead of time how he was going to phrase this. Preferably in the least traumatic way possible.

In the end he just goes with, “So there was a package on my porch…” and trails off, waiting to hear his dad ask, ‘What kind of package?’ or even just, ‘Oh yeah?’ Because his dad won’t know what it is. Because his dad wasn’t the one who sent it. Obviously.

Instead, his dad says, “Oh, you got it. Good. There should be a note from me in there with it.”

“Oh,” Stiles says. What he thinks is,  _Oh no_.

“Son? You still there?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles rallies. Tentatively, he hefts the dildo in his hand. It’s cold and heavy and, quite frankly, scary. He puts it down again hastily. “So… What’s, um, what’s the story there?” He tries to phrase it as vaguely as possible.

“No story, really,” his dad says blithely. “Parrish sent me the link to it the other day on Groupon.”

So Groupon sells dildos now? Stiles thought that was an app for, like, couponing. For groceries.

“He’s already given them to all his female relatives,” his dad goes on. “And I thought that was a good idea. They were on sale, so I decided to go ahead and order one for your grandma—”

Stiles chokes on his own spit.

“Son?”

“I’m— I’m okay,” Stiles gasps.

“Okay,” his dad says dubiously. “Where was I? Oh yeah. So I was getting one for your grandma, and I thought I’d get one for you, too, while I was at it. It wasn’t too much money, and I thought it might come in handy.”

There have been a few times recently when Stiles has wondered if he’s dreaming because this seriously can’t be real, but up until now it’s always been in the context of Derek Hale and some seriously mind-blowing orgasms. This, on the other hand… this is like those dreams where Stiles is inexplicably naked in the middle of class. Except even then, his subconscious has never gone so far as to involve his  _dad_ , sheesh.

“I mean,” his dad goes on, “you always hope you’ll never need it, but you never know when a situation might arise, and when it does, I want you to be prepared.”

“Prepared,” Stiles repeats. His dad wants him to be prepared. Prepared for spur-of-the-moment kinky sex with his secret boyfriend. Okay. So this is literally a conversation he is having with his dad right now. Stiles didn’t know until this moment that it was humanly possible for his face to feel this hot.

“Yeah. You know in my profession, well, I see a lot of things,” his dad says. Stiles wonders what that means. Things at Jungle? Things like sex workers? “And as much as I’d rather not imagine it being you—”

_You and me both_ , Stiles thinks.

“—sometimes things do happen, and not always just to women.”

Is that a reference to gay sex? Is that Stiles’ dad’s subtle way of saying he knows Stiles is bi?

“So it’s better to face facts and be ready for it than pretend there’s no chance of it ever happening. I just hope that you’ll use it if the time ever comes.”

“I think that might end in blood and tears,” Stiles blurts, then winces. Just one of many mental images he never wanted his dad to have.

“That’s the idea,” his dad says, bizarrely.

So… his dad is trying to sabotage his sex life? Is that what this is?

“Okay, wow. Don’t you think this whole thing is kind of… embarrassing?”

“Son, I know self-defense weapons are primarily marketed to women, but that doesn’t mean men can’t take precautions, too.”

There’s a long silence while Stiles sees his life flash before his eyes. Self- _defense_. Oh. Oh god. The spike on the end really is for stabbing. And the ridges are probably for gripping purposes, not for any… interesting stimulation. Fuck, he’d been about three seconds from using the word “dildo” in a conversation with his  _dad_. Not to mention probably letting it slip that Derek-the-former-murder-suspect was his boyfriend without any kind of planning ahead of time. 

“Right,” Stiles manages faintly, sagging back against the counter. “Yeah, totally. Okay, well, I’ll let you get back to work now.”

After that near-fiasco, he can’t hang up fast enough.

Derek says from behind him, “That was beautiful.”

Yeah, so apparently he’s not asleep in Stiles’ bed anymore.

“Shut up,” Stiles groans, picking up the not-dildo, “or else I’m going to stick this up your butt.”

Derek smirks and mimes zipping his lips, but only for a moment before he says, “I can’t believe you thought that was a sex toy.”

“Well… yeah! Just look at it!”

“I am. Any sex involving that would end with a trip to the E.R.”

“Exactly,” Stiles says. “That would one-hundred percent be a bad idea.”

He and Derek both look at it for a long moment, contemplative. Stiles gets the bizarre feeling that they might be onto something, if Stiles can ever disassociate it from memories of his dad. 

“Anyway,” Stiles says, “so you know this means I still have to break the news to my dad that we’re together.”

Derek goes satisfyingly pale.

*

It turns out Stiles’ dad already knew.

Derek does end up coming over for Thanksgiving, and they do all sit together at the kitchen table eating pecan pie, but thankfully there’s no mention of any dildo-like objects, so Stiles can still look his dad in the eye by the end of it.


End file.
